


Fitness for Duty

by Enfilade



Series: Contingency Procedures [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Assumptions, Drift/Ratchet mention, M/M, Multi, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rodimus/Blaster mention, Rodimus/Skids mention, Rodimus/Sunstreaker mention, Sexuality, TMI about Rodimus' sex life, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enfilade/pseuds/Enfilade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus had thought he’d be pumped after finally getting somewhere with Ultra Magnus.  Instead, he’s so unsettled that he pays a visit to Rung for help figuring out his current situation.  But not for an appointment.  Appointments are for people with problems.  Rodimus doesn’t have a problem.  Does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sobering Second Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CavalierConvoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/gifts).



> Well, it’s now officially a series, with the series name of “Contingency Procedures.” There’s six stories planned in total so far, and this is the third.
> 
> This is the “Thunder Road” of this series – the fic I wrote when I realized I was going to have to get inside Rodimus’ head as well as Magnus’ in order to make a series out of what was once just two little fics. 
> 
> There’s no intimate scenes in this story, but there’s way too much information about Rodimus’ sex life, including an unrequited crush on Drift.
> 
> This story is set after “Remain in Light” and the preceding fic “Standards Compliant” but just before “Dark Cybertron.”
> 
> I hope you enjoy this look into Rodimus’ head.
> 
> And a very happy birthday to CavalierConvoy who is the best enabler to share a mutual delusion/obsession with.

Chapter One: Sobering Second Thoughts

Somehow Rodimus had expected to feel more euphoric the day after he’d finally convinced Ultra Magnus to ‘face him into recharge. Instead, Rodimus’ fuel tanks kept roiling with an uneasy anxious sensation, despite the fact that his frame was still glowing with the comforting tension release that followed a good thorough fragging. His valve was tender—Ultra Magnus’ spike being the largest he’d ever taken—but dear Primus, had it been worth it.

Except.

Except Rodimus’ fantasies about this day had been more along the lines of somersaulting onto the bridge wearing a big slag-sucking grin, high-fiving Drift, and asking if Drift could guess who’d finally gotten the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord laid.

Now Rodimus watched Hound leave the bridge after transferring command to Rodimus. Rodimus felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders while his fuel pump juddered uncomfortably. The situation aboard the _Lost Light_ had changed so much, so quickly.

Overlord had escaped. More people had died. His fault.

Drift was gone.

Ultra Magnus was really a little mech named Minimus Ambus, and he’d sold Rodimus out to Chief Justice Tyrest.

Tyrest was insane.

Ambulon had died.

Pharma was alive. And insane.

Dai Atlas had died.

First Aid hadn’t been the same since Luna One.

Ratchet wasn’t acting right either, probably because Pharma had taken his head as a trophy and kept his body in a box. 

Rodimus had saved everyone who’d ever been constructed cold. No glory. No celebration. No triumphant acknowledgement of what he’d accomplished. He’d admitted his part in the Overlord disaster and now it felt as though his whole crew hated him. They were putting it to a vote whether he’d even be able to keep his captaincy.

And this was after Drift had taken the blame to ensure Rodimus would stay in charge.

It was under the weight of these swift and terrible changes that Rodimus had made his way to Ultra Magnus’ quarters over a day ago, seeking…he didn’t even know what. Comfort. Reassurance. Some small sign that maybe somehow things would still turn out okay.

He and Magnus had ended up fragging each other’s brains out.

And now…?

Funny. Rodimus didn’t feel very pleased with himself at all. He sought for words to explain his emotions, and the best he could come up with was the thought that he’d set himself up to take on yet one more terrible responsibility.

The kind that came with unspeakable consequences if he screwed it up. 

*

Rodimus wasn’t sure how he made it through his duty shift, but when Ultra Magnus arrived on the bridge, Rodimus’ emotions entered a mad oscillation between relief and extreme anxiety. Panic. Relax. Panic. Relax. Back and forth a thousand times in the space of a single breath.

“Captain transfers command,” Rodimus stammered.

“Executive officer assumes command,” Magnus replied smoothly. The ritual marked the exact moment when authority and responsibility transferred between the arriving and departing officers. 

Rodimus waited for Ultra Magnus to say something about their activities, first in Magnus’ quarters, then in his. Instead, Magnus busied himself with checking the bridge computers and viewscreens. Finding all in order, he pulled out a datapad. 

Rodimus stood on tiptoes for a look at what was taking up Magnus’ attention. Memos. Ultra Magnus was reading memos.

“Is there something more, captain?” Ultra Magnus asked.

For a moment, their optics locked. Rodimus felt his fuel tank begin a slow tumble. He remembered how Magnus’ face looked in the throes of overload. He should’ve been amused, imagining it now while Magnus was acting so stuffy. Instead he felt his systems spike to redline, threatening meltdown.

“No,” Rodimus managed to stammer. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Magnus nodded and returned to his memos.

Not a word about their activities together. No flirting, no touching. Ultra Magnus was all business.

_Well, why wouldn’t he be?_

_Did you expect a one night stand to change him?_

No. Not really. And yet Rodimus felt a pang of pain in the vicinity of his spark. It hurt that Magnus didn’t acknowledge the encounter at all. Was Magnus trying to pretend it hadn’t happened?

On the other hand, Rodimus knew their little fling was probably a much bigger deal for Magnus. Magnus had said he wasn’t a virgin but Rodimus wasn’t sure he believed it. Magnus sure had needed a lot of coaching and he’d seemed confused through most of the encounter—happy, yeah, and happy was a really great look for Magnus, but also confused. First times were often intense, and combining that emotional volatility with someone who basically existed for stability and rules…

…damn it, Rodimus ought to be feeling relieved that Magnus wasn’t being clingy or, worse, shouty, but this _nothing-to-see-here_ Magnus really _hurt_. Rodimus was surprised by how much it hurt.

Rodimus took a deep breath and reminded himself that Ultra Magnus was just being Ultra Magnus. Talking about personal issues on duty was probably a big no-no. Rodimus would bet it was even a rule. He’d have asked Magnus what part of the Autobot Code told you to keep your personal life out of your work life, but he didn’t want to be treated to a night-long lecture about why Rodimus didn’t have the code memorized as all good captains ought to…or worse, mandatory enrolment in Ultra Magnus’ dreaded “refresher course.”

Nope. Rodimus would just choose to believe that when he got Ultra Magnus alone, next time they were both off-duty, Magnus would open up a little more. Rodimus wanted to see if Magnus was still okay with what they’d done.

And if he might want to do it again. 

Rodimus’ fuel tank flipped sideways.

Primus, what was _wrong_ with him?

Rodimus excused himself from the bridge. As he stepped out, he heard Ultra Magnus’ voice calling after him with a tremulous tone: something about if he had any tasks for Magnus to attend to after his shift had ended. Rodimus didn’t know what Magnus was talking about, and didn’t care. He had better things to think about than _taskings_.

 _Frag Magnus six shades of shiny and all he can think about is_ taskings _._

Rodimus muttered to himself as he stalked down the corridor. Maybe he should just go to his quarters for a nap. He was feeling cranky, and he and Magnus hadn’t gotten a lot of recharge last night. Suddenly, though, the idea of going back to his room—which probably still smelled of lubricants and which definitely still had the berth tarps neatly arranged—didn’t appeal to him at all. He didn’t want to stand there, inhaling that, staring at a berth that hadn’t been so neat since the day Rodimus moved in to the captain’s quarters. Ultra Magnus had insisted on straightening the berthcovers afterwards. Of course. Of course he had.

Rodimus couldn’t deal with that right now.

Primus, how had this situation gotten so complicated? It wasn’t as though Rodimus hadn’t had plenty of experience with days-after, but they’d never felt like _this_. Sometimes he’d felt smug, pleased, proud of himself; sometimes he’d felt embarrassed, sheepish, foolish even. A couple times he’d even felt worried, wondering if he’d get in trouble if found out, or fretting that he might not get another chance to get with someone he found attractive. He’d even had his heart broken a couple times. Those failed relationships had hurt a good deal at the time, but he’d bounced back. He was resilient; he’d always been tough.

But this time it felt as though the stakes were so very much higher.

 _What_ was going on?

Rodimus passed by his own door and stopped in front of Drift’s, but he caught himself right before he knocked.

 _Drift’s not there any more_.

His fuel tank sunk to the vicinity of his feet. Everything was a mess, and he didn’t even have his best friend to talk about it with.

Who else could he trust to listen to him, not as a commander but as a friend?

Rodimus sent a comm to Blaster, but his answer was an automatic response informing him that Blaster was off duty and not answering comms. He considered using his command codes, but discarded the idea. This wasn’t an emergency, and if Blaster was in the berth with someone, that would be all kinds of awkward. Nope. Blaster was out.

That left Rodimus in an awkward situation. He was the captain, and as such, it wasn’t appropriate for him to go confiding in random crew members about his personal doubts and worries. Doubly so, given what had recently happened on Luna-One. 

Who would Magnus consider an appropriate confidante for a captain?

Ratchet? Ratchet was command staff, and a kind spark, but his tongue was sharp and he’d been dealing with his own issues since they’d returned from the Seething Moon.

Hound? The former member of the Primal Vanguard had been doing a good job of filling Drift’s boots, but Rodimus didn’t know him that well and besides, he’d just come off a double shift. Hound probably wanted to recharge. And Rodimus admitted that if he lost the crew’s confidence vote, Hound might very well become the Lost Light’s new commander. Rodimus tried not to resent Hound on that basis alone, but he wasn’t about to show weakness to his closest competitor.

Frag, who else was command level?

Rodimus glanced at the room on his left, reading the name on the door in passing. He had already walked by before he thought of the room’s occupant.

 _Rung_.

Rung was, if not an officer, at the very least a specialist. And his entire _deal_ was listening to people.

….Maybe?

Rodimus backtracked.

The current time was outside of Rung’s office hours. For a moment, Rodimus felt disappointed. Then he realized that Rung’s office hours would be filled by patients, meaning Rung would be busy then. This was not office time, meaning Rung would likely not be busy with anything important, and besides, Rodimus didn’t want his head shrunk. He just wanted someone to listen.

Rodimus knocked on the door.

“Coming,” came a voice from inside, and moments later, the door opened.

Rung stood there, holding a little model ship. The smell of paint and solvent permeated the small office. Rodimus could see brushes and a palette laid on Rung’s desktop. The psychologist had been playing with his toys again.

“Busy?” Rodimus asked with a grin, knowing the answer was no.

Rung looked over his shoulder at the palette. “Yes, actually,” Rung said. 

Rodimus scowled. Tinkering with toys didn’t make Rung _busy_. 

“Is this an emergency?” Rung inquired, sounding concerned.

Rodimus felt suddenly awkward, which meant that he leaned languidly against the doorframe, bending one knee to lift his foot, flashing the flames on his chest and putting on his best “too cool for this” expression. _Fake it till you make it._ “Can I talk to you?”

Rung looked down at his model, then back up to Rodimus. “You’d like to make an appointment?”

“No, no,” Rodimus hastened to correct him. “I mean talk to you off the record.”

Rung frowned. Rodimus realized that he was intruding on the psychologist’s private time, and however dorky Rung’s hobbies might be, he had as much right to enjoy them during his off hours as Rodimus had to enjoy _being awesome_ during his. Making an appointment would be the polite thing to do.

There was just no way Rodimus was going to do it.

Psychologists were for sick people. Paranoids like Red Alert, sociopaths like Whirl, obsessive compulsives like… Rodimus felt heat flare across his face. He reminded himself that the point was that Rung’s job was to keep the mentally unbalanced members of the crew in functional condition, just as Ratchet did for the physically damaged members of the crew. Rodimus wasn’t one of those people. Making an appointment would imply that there was something _wrong_ with him. Which there wasn’t.

A voice whispered in the back of Rodimus’ processor that if he was a patient, and Rung was his doctor, then Rung would have the power to control their conversations. Rodimus’ status as captain wouldn’t be enough to protect him. It would be Rung who chose what they talked about. Rung who asked the questions. Rung who could make Rodimus think about things he didn’t want to think about.

_How did it make you feel?_

_Nyon…how did it make you feel?_

No. Absolutely not.

“If you’re busy, it’s no big deal,” Rodimus said casually. He knew damned well he ought to be discussing his situation with Magnus with _someone_ , before he made some awful mistake he couldn’t undo. Rung was one of the few people he trusted to keep his mouth shut and not judge, but if it meant becoming a patient, the deal was off. Rodimus would find some other way to get by.

Just as he had after…

_No._

_Not thinking about that._

Rung was silent a moment longer, then, as though having come to some kind of decision, he set down his model ship. “I suppose I can let this dry for a while,” he said. “Come in.”

Relieved—and feeling a brief flash of satisfaction at having gotten his way—Rodimus stepped inside. When the door closed behind him, he used his command codes to be certain it was locked.


	2. Weight of History

Chapter Two: Weight of History

“So, yeah, I wanted to ask you if I could get some advice,” Rodimus said awkwardly, standing just inside the locked door to Rung’s office. “Not a therapy session. Just, you know, your ideas about some…stuff.”

“Of course,” Rung replied. He gestured to his room’s modest furnishings. “You can sit if you like. It might be more comfortable.”

Rodimus immediately rejected the couch. That was for _patients_. The folding chair in the corner looked rickety…no, _temporary_. It was a lesser seat than Rung’s chair, and therefore not appropriate to Rodimus’ rank. He had to keep in control here. Rodimus settled for leaning against the wall and looking cool. 

Rung didn’t seem impressed by Rodimus’ coolness, and he didn’t say anything. He just sat there and waited, his expression perfectly neutral, as though he had all the time in the world. Finally Rodimus found himself speaking just to break the silence. 

“It’s kind of hard for me to find someone to talk to about this. Because I’m the captain.” Yes. A little reminder who was in charge here. Rodimus would be safe as long as Rung remembered who was in charge. Rodimus didn’t have to be scared if he was in charge. The mech in charge got to decide what sort of things were talked about…and what weren’t.

Rung nodded. “Please be assured that I will respect the confidential nature of our discussion.”

That made Rodimus feel a little better. “Okay. I want to talk about…”

_Oh, Primus. This is going to sound stupid._

Because he was the captain and he ought to be talking about captain-y things like making zero progress on his mission, people under his command dying, and leading a crew that had lost confidence in him. The last item had been preying on his mind a lot. He was starting to doubt his decision to put it to a vote whether he should step down or not. 

At first, it sounded like a great idea—if he won, everyone who voted against him would have to shut up about it—but on second thought, he was beginning to suspect he was going to _lose_ , and then who would be captain? Drift? Drift was gone. Ratchet? Ratchet wanted to retire from the job he already had. Magnus?

_Magnus._

Rodimus’s spark fluttered.

“Um,” he said, and kicked at the floor. Rung tilted his head, leaning forward expectantly. Rodimus suspected he no longer looked very cool.

“I want to talk about something personal,” he said, feeling ashamed and stupid and like someone who knew damned well that a captain should have more important things to talk about.

Rung, however, remained silent. Rodimus dropped his optics to the floor and fidgeted like an unruly subordinate waiting to be chastised. When Rung continued to say nothing, Rodimus dared to look up. Rung nodded, as if to say, _go on_.

Rodimus drew air into his intakes and said, “I, um, I decided when I put this mission together, if I was going to be captain of this ship I’d have to make a few changes. Like not overcharging until I passed out in the hallway, and not taking stupid bets any more, and no more asteroid surfing, that sort of thing. Because nobody’s going to respect a captain who acts like an idiot. It’s time for me to grow up and take responsibility.”

Which was much easier said than done. 

Rung nodded, in agreement so far.

“And another thing that nobody’s going to respect is a captain who treats his crew like his personal harem.”

Silence followed Rodimus’ declaration. Rodimus thought Rung was supposed to ask questions, but he had hardly said two words since Rodimus locked the door. Then again, maybe things were different given that this conversation was off the record.

“So I decided I had to stop, um, what I’d been doing before. Back on Cybertron.”

Which had been a mixture of casual encounters with his fellow soldiers and one-night stands with complete strangers. Rung didn’t ask for details. Rodimus suspected the psychiatrist already knew what Rodimus meant.

Rodimus held his breath, waiting for Rung to ask what that business with Skids had been about then, but Rung continued to listen attentively without commenting.

Rodimus had already decided exactly how he was going to justify that business with Skids. First, Skids had started it by coming to Rodimus’ office; second, Skids had definitely interfaced before, he just couldn’t _remember_ it, so really what Rodimus had done had _helped_ Skids, and that made it a _good_ thing to do….

…thirdly, Skids with amnesia had been as close to a first-timer as Rodimus was likely to get, and when you combined that with a super-learner, you got something _so incredibly hot_ that absolutely _no one_ could blame Rodimus for taking Skids up on that offer. The offer Skids initiated. 

But Rung didn’t seem interested in the explanation. Rodimus felt he had to explain himself anyway. “That thing with Skids, that was kind of an anomaly, you know, Skids was trying to get his memory back, and I wanted to help…”

Rung nodded. No chastisement, no agreement, just that simple _I heard you; go on_.

“I guess someone else could’ve helped him.”

_Someone else who would have remembered to lock his office door,_ Rodimus’ brain added unhelpfully, because the second Swerve opened that door, the entire Lost Light was destined to learn about Rodimus and Skids fooling around on the captain’s desk.

Rodimus continued. “But we didn’t have Getaway on board yet, and before that, Skids mostly hung out with Chromedome, who’s totally monogamous with Rewind, though, Rewind, you know, I think that guy strikes me as the kind who could keep more than one lover on a string…not me, though, I’m not going _there_.” Belatedly, Rodimus realized he was babbling.

And Rung was still just listening and nodding.

“ _Anyway_ , yeah, that was a one-off thing with Skids,” Rodimus said. Truth be told, it kind of hurt that Skids had never been back for more. That was the downside of _super-learner_ : once Skids had been there and done that, he wanted something new. Rodimus wondered how Getaway kept Skids happy. Maybe Getaway was okay with Skids adding notches to his berth with astonishing speed. Rodimus thought it was completely disgusting in a _yeah I guess I’m jealous_ kind of way.

“It taught me, though,” Rodimus said, “that….well, I’m not exactly ready to settle down with a conjunx endura, so I decided I’d find a couple, you know, friends. People who wanted the same sort of thing I wanted. People who knew how to be discreet.”

Somehow saying “I thought I should find some frag buddies” seemed too profane to say in front of Rung. Even the euphemism made Rodimus feel a little ashamed of himself, though Rung appeared completely unfazed.

“Tell me more,” Rung encouraged.

“So, um, Blaster…” Rodimus paused. “Do I have to explain about Blaster or do you already know that?” Rodimus thought everyone knew about Blaster, but on the other hand, maybe not a quiet, dorky little guy like Rung. 

Rung opened his mouth and proved he actually did remember how to speak. “I think it would be helpful for you to tell me about Blaster.”

Rodimus didn’t know what the hell kind of answer that was, but whatever. “Blaster is not interested in romance. Which doesn’t mean he’s not interested in fragging, and doesn’t mean he’s not interested in having friends. He’s got lots of friends, some of whom he frags, some he doesn’t. Me and him were the second kind for a long time and the first kind almost as long, so, I mean, if I want a roll in the berth with no strings attached, Blaster’s the perfect go-to guy, except…”

“Except?” Rung asked when Rodimus trailed off.

“Well…” Rodimus fidgeted. “It’s not like I can be mad at Blaster. I knew his deal going in. But I…I can’t help think it would be kind of nice to have someone who wanted, you know, a bit more than a casual friendship…Does that make sense? It’s like, sometimes I’d like a little emotional support and Blaster’s all _this is getting too heavy for me man, I’m outie._ _Conjunx endura_ is too much, but Blaster’s deal just isn’t enough for me. Is that wrong of me?”

“Why would it be wrong for you to define your personal needs?”

Rodimus thought about that. “I guess it’s not. I mean, I can’t help if what I want is maybe a little bit different from what Blaster’s offering. And I think Blaster understands that. He knows I’ve got other mechs, and it’s not that he’s just fine with that, but that he actually expects it. And I know he’s got other mechs, and I’m okay with that…you know, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Sometimes it’s really annoying when I want his attention and he’s busy with someone else.”

“You feel…?”

“I feel like I really ought to take priority.” Rodimus crossed his arms and sulked.

“Have you spoken to Blaster about this?”

“No, because I knew the deal going in, and it’s not fair of me to get all clingy on him.”

Rung nodded. “That’s very mature of you.”

Rodimus raised an optic ridge, wondering if Rung was mocking him. 

Rung seemed to pick up on the unspoken query. “I see a good deal of patients whose issues with their partners stem from the fact that they hope to encourage, or worse, pressure, their partners into becoming the idealized figures they wish their partners to be, rather than accepting their partners for who they are.” 

“Yeah. Well, I know I’m not going to change Blaster, and I’d be a jerk to try. He’s not wired for romance or monogamy, and I have to accept that. And he knows that too, and that’s why he doesn’t mind if I fool around with other people. So rather than blaming him for being who he up-front told me he is, I figured I’m just going to have to look elsewhere for the rest of what I need.”

“Do you feel that you’re wired for romance or monogamy?”  
Rodimus shifted uncomfortably. “See, I don’t know. Being tied down to one person all the time seems kind of…I don’t know, I think it would get boring, and there’s a lot of mechs out there, you know? I want to meet people, try stuff, _experiment_ …”

Rung nodded. “How would you describe your ideal partner, then?”

“A really good friend who’s hot, caring, and has a romantic side, who likes to frag but doesn’t throw a total fit if we frag other people sometimes.”

“So, an open relationship, then.”

“I guess so.” That was what he had been describing, Rodimus realized, but it still felt strange to hear Rung say it so bluntly and clinically. 

And it didn’t quite sound…right.

“I mean,” Rodimus said slowly, “I think that maybe when I’m…you know, old and stuff…I think maybe then it might be nice to settle down with someone special. Once I’d been there and done that and gone around the universe enough times to know what kind of person I belonged with.” Rodimus fidgeted.

And Rung picked up on it. “And?” the orange bot encouraged.

“And…I don’t know. I think that…well…I think that if someone I really liked—not just someone I thought was hot, I mean someone _special_ —was fragging someone else, I think I wouldn’t like it very much.”

“Hm. Why is that?”

“It’s not fair, and I know it. I can’t expect to get away with fragging around and then get mad if my partner does the same, but…but there are some people I just feel selfish about. Like I don’t want to share.” Rodimus rested his head in his hands. “Like…like I’d always be afraid of not being enough to make them happy. Afraid they wouldn’t come back to me. Or afraid they’d think I wouldn’t be good enough to be worth their company. Or afraid they’d fall in love with someone else and leave me completely.”

“Are you afraid you would do this to them?”

“No! Not if…not if they really were the special one. The right one.”

“Do you act on these feelings?”

“Never got that far. I guess…” Rodimus took a deep breath through his intakes. “I guess I’d like to think I’d know when it was time to settle down, and that’s when I found someone who gave me everything I needed, and I wouldn’t have to or really want to frag around any more.” Rodimus let his breath out in a sigh. “I don’t know if that’s realistic. Sometimes I think I’m chasing a fantasy, and my current ideal is more likely. An open relationship with someone fun, supportive, caring, and, you know, forgiving.”

“Have you met anyone who reminds you of your current ideal?”

Had he ever. Rodimus finally realized he was tired of standing, but there was no damned way he was getting anywhere near that couch. He grabbed the back of the rickety chair, tilted it, spun it one-eighty on a single leg, and sat by straddling the back of the chair. He was the captain and he could sit how he liked. Plus, this pose made him look cool.

“You wanna know if I was fragging Drift,” Rodimus said dryly.

“That wasn’t the question,” Rung replied, a faint note of chastisement in his voice.

Rodimus eyed him, wondering who was fooling who. Was Rung prying about Drift and playing innocent, or was Rodimus’ mind jumping to Drift because Drift was in his thoughts so often?

“Does Drift suit my idea of the perfect friend with benefits? Yes. Did I get anywhere with him? No.” Rodimus sat racking his brain, trying once again to answer the question that had been haunting him, waiting for Rung to accuse him of being a liar.


	3. Something Unspoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Rodimus tries to describe what Drift is to him and realizes that he might have been either willfully ignorant or completely misguided. Or both.
> 
> Platonic Wing/Drift, celibate Wing, Rodimus/Sunstreaker, Rodimus/Atomizer, Rodimus/Blaster, Sunstreaker/Tracks if you squint, unrequited crush, unspoken issues, and in continuity with "You Know It Don't Come Easy."

Chapter Three: Something Unspoken

Rung did not accuse Rodimus of being a liar, nor of anything else. Rodimus looked up, and Rung made a little _go on_ gesture with his hand.

“Most people think Drift and I were fragging, and yeah, I’d have probably liked it, but I _didn’t get anywhere_ and I _don’t know why not_. Drift is my _best friend_. He wasn’t interfacing with anyone, not that I knew about, and I wasn’t….well, he knew about the thing with Skids, and Blaster, and…but I’d have given all that up if he’d asked! He didn’t. He just…just kept smiling, and laughing, and letting me touch his arm.” Rodimus hesitated. “But, now that I think of it, he always did this flinch thing when I touched him.” 

Frag. Rodimus had always thought that was just how Drift was. Drift did that when anyone touched him, even accidentally. He’d never realized maybe Drift didn’t like being touched.

And Drift had never tried to touch Rodimus back. 

“It sounds as though you feel frustrated,” Rung said.

“It’s just…we have so much in common, and we’ve been friends for so long.”

“How would you define “so long?”

Rodimus knew why Rung was asking. Drift hadn’t been wearing an Autobot badge for all that long, not next to the millennia that Rung had lived. Usually Rodimus said that his and Drift’s relationship had become very deep very quickly because they were both speedsters and therefore fast by nature, but Rodimus didn’t want to try to fool Rung with the easy lie. He had an intuition that if he filled this conversation with lies, the advice he’d get at the end would be garbage.

“Drift and I were friends since…. Well. This is probably going to sound weird. He and I used to race, back…before.”

“Before the war?” 

Rodimus sighed. “Not that long ago. Before…before Drift changed sides.”

“I see.”

Rodimus shot Rung a warning glare. “Nothing traitorous. It was…it was how we fought. Without weapons, without fists. With wheels and open road. Racing, like we were born for. Sometimes I won. Sometimes him. Mostly me, but…yeah, sometimes him.”

Rung seemed to be not the least bit bothered at the idea that Rodimus had been drag-racing a Decepticon throughout the war. Silence hung between them, and Rodimus filled it with more words.

“So, when he turned Autobot, I…well, I didn’t know him well, but I knew him sort of. Knew him better than anyone else and knew he couldn’t be all bad. Nobody else liked him much, but me and him, we had a lot in common, and we helped each other out. Drift did stuff for me, and in return I hung around with him and made him a little more acceptable to everyone else. You know. I let my awesome rub off on him.”

Rung nodded.

“He bought me this ship.” Rodimus looked around at the walls, the roof. “We came up with this quest together. He knew all that stuff the Circle of Light taught him, I had natural leadership skills…it was supposed to be perfect.” Rodimus dropped his gaze to his feet. “It was supposed to be perfect,” he repeated.

“Are you angry at Drift for not becoming your lover?”

“I’m _confused_ ,” Rodimus snapped. “Look at me! I’m the captain of the ship, I like to think I’m pretty good looking, and Blaster seems to think I’m hot stuff in the berth and he would _know_. So what in the Pit is Drift’s problem?” 

Rodimus felt a dull throb in his fuel tank. “It’s got to be the Circle of Light. Drift told me they were all celibate. I didn’t think he subscribed to their philosophy _that_ much but…it’s the only reason that makes sense.”

“Did you talk about this with Drift?”

Rodimus stared at Rung as though he’d grown another head. “Do I look like a loser?”

Rung actually sighed, which was the first personal response Rodimus had managed to get out of him. “Clear, respectful, two-way communication does not make someone a loser. In fact, it is a critical component of a healthy relationship—sexual, romantic, platonic or otherwise.”

Rodimus fidgeted. “I thought…I thought it was kind of obvious. You don’t buy someone a big-ass ship and go on a long space voyage with them unless you like them.”

“There are many different types of _like_ , Rodimus.”

Rodimus felt suddenly guilty. “You’re saying that maybe Drift just wanted to be my friend.”

“I am saying that he wanted to be your friend, which is not less than your lover, merely different. You mention that you and he forged a relationship despite being on opposite sides of the war. There was no sexual component to that, was there?”

“No.”

“Romantic?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Of course there had been. Or had there? Suddenly Rodimus didn’t know. They’d been very close but…that closeness had never been defined, and Rodimus now suspected he’d only seen what he wanted to see.

“What about when Drift became an Autobot?”

“Not right away.” Drift had been very attractive, but Rodimus wasn’t sure even his awesomeness would be enough to overcome Drift’s social poison. He’d been wary, at first, how closely he’d let himself be associated with his old racing buddy. “I mean, no, we were buds, but…”

“So the potential for romance, and/or interface, is a more recent addition to your relationship.”

“Yeah.” Rodimus thought a moment. “But I was flirting with him basically nonstop since we decided to do this quest, and he was flirting ba…”

Rodimus bit off.

 _Had_ Drift been flirting back?

At the time, Rodimus had thought he had been. When Drift grinned and brushed him off—that had been teasing, right? That had been Drift asking to be pursued. Right?

Only now did it occur to Rodimus that maybe Drift had been trying to say _no thanks_ without actually vocalizing the word _no_.

Why _not_ , though? Why wouldn’t Drift have just told him to knock it off, if he didn’t like the flirting? 

“He never told me not to,” Rodimus whispered, feeling sick in his tanks, wondering if he’d done something wrong to his best friend. 

His friend who was gone, now.

Rodimus held out his hands. Saw the tremor ripple through his fingers. “Primus, Rung, I never wanted to hurt him. I don’t know why he wouldn’t have trusted me to accept his no. I don’t know why…” Guilt wrung his spark. “I don’t know why he thought this quest was so important that he took the blame for Overlord instead of me.” Rodimus bit his lip.

“Would you rather talk about that?” Rung asked gently.

No way. Talking about Overlord, and Drift, and the whole fallout was way too close to a couch session for Rodimus’ comfort. What Rodimus wanted was to get this conversation back on track to the reason he’d come here in the first place.

“No, I just wanted to say that now, now that the truth is out, I feel crappier than ever. Like Drift sacrificed his rank and his badge and his goodwill with the other Autobots for _nothing_. Because I opened my big yap and confessed. I took Drift’s gift and I squandered it and now he’s given up everything to protect a secret that got out anyway. Because I admitted the truth.”

“Do you regret admitting the truth?”

“I _regret_ not telling Prowl to go frag himself.”

Silence. Rung was waiting. Rodimus realized he hadn’t answered the psychiatrist’s question.

“No,” he said quietly. “I think I did the right thing. It took me a while, but I finally did the right thing. I just wish Drift hadn’t paid such a high price in the meantime.”

“Have you thought about what you should do next?”

“You mean make it up to Drift? Rung, don’t you understand that right now, the thing I want more than anything is to say to the Pit with Thunderclash and Bumblebee and Op…Orion Pax, and even the Knights of Cybertron, and go after Drift and tell him I’m sorry. But I can’t do that. Drift…Drift would’ve wanted me to keep going. Drift gave up everything he had so I _could_ keep going. If I drop this quest now, it’ll be betraying Drift’s deepest wishes.”

Rodimus looked at Rung for validation, but Rung just gave him another of those infuriating nods. “Can we get back on topic?” Rodimus said irritably.

“Of course,” Rung said mildly.

“Yeah. So. Drift. So I wasn’t getting anywhere with Drift, and Blaster’s notoriously _unavailable_. Do you know what unavailable means?”

Rung had just opened his mouth when Rodimus defined it anyway. “It means he’s busy fragging someone else.”

Rung closed his mouth.

“So I took up with Sunstreaker.”

Rung nodded. “Tell me about Sunstreaker.”

“Sunstreaker’s…well, kind of a lot like Drift. Fast. Gorgeous. Looks great. Hot in the…well, rumour has it Drift is hot in the berth. Drift _says_ he’s hot in the berth. You already know I don’t know that myself.” He still felt frustrated thinking about it. Were those rumours completely made up, had Drift started them himself, or had someone on this ship been luckier than Rodimus? 

“And Sunstreaker…well, when we first set off, there were a lot of people still pretty pissed off with him for what he’d done.”

Rung nodded. “And you weren’t?”

“Well, it was a rotten thing he did, but…he felt desperate. He did a bad thing for a good reason. He felt like he had no more good choices, and he did what he thought was best at the time. I’m not saying I agree with him, but I understand what that feels like…”

_Zeta Prime will kill them, slowly and painfully, to power his weapon._

_Unless you blow the city first._

_Unless you kill them now._

“Do you?” Rung inquired mildly, and Rodimus regretted saying too much.

This conversation would not lead towards Nyon. Rodimus pressed forward, “So I figured Sunstreaker needed a friend, and one thing led to another, and the next thing you know, we were fragging pretty much every chance we got.”

“You say that in past tense.”

“Sunstreaker doesn’t talk to me much any more.”

“Why’s that?”

Rodimus tried to think of an answer that didn’t make him sound like a complete jerk, failed, and decided just to spit it out. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

“And yours was?”

Rodimus hung his head and mumbled, “Yelling Drift’s name.”

He didn’t need to look up to imagine Rung’s eyebrows drawn down into a disapproving frown. He risked a quick glance up anyway and, yep, there it was, Rung frowning at him. 

_Congratulations, Rodimus, you finally got Mr. Impartiality to pass judgment on you_.

“You were pretending that Sunstreaker was Drift?”

“Maybe,” Rodimus denied, by which he meant _yes_. “But it’s not as though _he_ wasn’t pretending _I_ wasn’t someone else. I swear I heard him moaning to Tracks at _least_ twice while we were doing it.” Rodimus folded his arms, refusing to feel badly over something that was as much Sunstreaker’s fault as his. “It’s not my fault if Sunstreaker’s immense ego can’t handle the fact that I was doing the same thing he was.”

Rung sighed. “Does it occur to you that a relationship in which both of you were pretending your partner was someone else, isn’t particularly healthy?”

“Not as bad as if only one of us was.”

Rung lowered his glasses and looked at Rodimus over the rims.

“Okay, yeah, it wasn’t perfect.” Rodimus kicked his foot, swinging it back and forth. “Doesn’t matter. Say Drift’s name once in the berth and that was the end of it.”

“So then what did you do?”

“You mean _who_ did I do.” Rodimus grinned.

Rung did not laugh at the joke.

Rodimus sighed. So much for lightening the mood. “Atomizer, mostly.”

“Atomizer.” Rung’s expression was unreadable behind his glasses. Rodimus bet that if he could see the other mech’s optics, he could guess what Rung was thinking. That was probably why Rung wore glasses instead of just having his optics recalibrated.

“Tell me about Atomizer,” Rung said.

“It’s not like we weren’t fooling around before. Started because Blaster was busy, kept going because Drift was…I thought he was playing hard to get, now I’m wondering if he just didn’t want to let me down by giving me an outright no. Anyway. Yeah, me and Atomizer have…had….a thing, but when I started seeing Sunstreaker I tried to cool it down with Atomizer.”

“Why?”

“He was being a little too friendly.”

“Too friendly?”

Rodimus shrugged. “Same deal as Blaster. I had other mechs, he had other mechs. Rumours going around about him and Brainstorm. Might be true, might not, I don’t know. Atomizer’s always hanging around being helpful. Offering to paint the flames on my office door, or suggesting I tile the hallways in orange and red. Maybe a little _too_ helpful. I got a little worried that he might want, you know, _more_ from me _,_ and I didn’t want to lead him on, so when things heated up with Sunstreaker I saw Atomizer less often.”

“And then when Sunstreaker lost interest?”

“You mean when Sunstreaker got pissed and cut me off? Yeah, I went back to Atomizer. Maybe more than I wanted to, but he was always so _willing to help_.”

Rung pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “Do you feel that you’re taking advantage of Atomizer?”

“He’s the one coming around to see me most of the time.”

“And?”

“And I shouldn’t feel bad about taking what I’m offered.”

“But?”

“But I’ve always got the feeling he wants something.”

“A relationship?”

“What else would he want from me?”

Rung was silent.

Rodimus wondered about Atomizer. He’d always felt the interior decorator was angling for a commitment. Now, though, he wondered if he’d missed something else. Maybe Atomizer was just a straight-out generous guy.

Or maybe he was playing an angle Rodimus couldn’t even begin to guess at.

Rodimus snorted. He’d come to Rung to get his thoughts straight. Instead, his brain felt more scrambled than ever. He’d turn into a conspiracy freak like Red Alert if he kept this up.

“Look, can we get to the point?” Rodimus asked.

Rung folded his hands. “What do you feel is the point?” Rung inquired.

“The _point_ is I’ve just told you what I’ve been doing which, up until two days ago, has been working for me.”

“Sunstreaker? Skids?”

“ _Mostly_ working for me,” Rodimus corrected. “Three lovers, an unrequited crush on my best friend and a couple one-night stands does not equal fragging my way through the ship.”

“So you feel you have been mostly, if not entirely, successful in meeting your original goal.”

“Yeah.” Rodimus took a deep breath. “Until now.” 


	4. Leap of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canada Day.

Chapter Four: Leap of Faith

“Go on,” Rung said.

Rodimus was on the verge of blurting out “I fragged my executive officer, and it was _the best,_ ” when warning lights flashed across his field of vision. He glanced upwards, recognizing a moment later that they weren’t external—they were a ping from his own internal sensors.

_Huh_.

He took a deep breath, stalling for time. What could his subconscious possibly be warning him about?

_Oh._

Ultra Magnus was a very private person. He probably wouldn’t want anyone, not even Rung, knowing that he and Rodimus were fragging. Rodimus knew Magnus felt conflicted and probably guilty about the absolutely incredible interfacing they’d done. He’d feel betrayed if he’d thought Rodimus had opened his mouth to brag.

The last thing Rodimus ever wanted to do was to hurt his Ultra Magnus.

Rodimus was going to have to be very careful talking about this subject. “Um…there’s someone on this ship who I have always found…very attractive. Like, differently than Sunstreaker and them. A different kind of attractive.”

Rung did not ask him who he was talking about. “Attractive in the wanting to be intimate with them kind of way?”

“Yeah.”

“Attractive in the wanting to interface with them kind of way?”

“Guilty.” Primus, it was all about guilt with Magnus. 

“Attractive in the wanting to spend time outside of the berth kind of way?”

“I guess so. I have no idea what we’d _do_ but…yeah.” Rodimus blew out air through his vents. “I’d like to hang out with him, but I don’t think we have a lot in common.”

“But you don’t think it’s just a physical attraction?”

Rodimus paused. He’d never considered that his draw to Magnus was more than just wanting to be mastered by those big, strong hands. More than just wanting to ride that long, thick, deliciously customized spike. More than wanting to go limp in Magnus’ arms and let someone else shoulder responsibility for a while. Somewhere along the line he’d actually started to care about the mech whose designation was Minimus Ambus.

The knowledge sent an arrow of fear deep into his processor.

“No,” he whispered, his lips numb. “I know it’s not.”

“Have you ever approached the individual with an inquiry about a relationship outside of work?” Mercifully, Rung was still not asking for names.

“When we first left Cybertron? Yeah, all the time. I’d have been in his berth in a hot minute, vow to behave or no vow.”

“He declined?”

“He gave me this look that made me feel like an immense idiot for even asking.”

“I see. What did you do then?”

“Well at first, I thought _he_ thought I was joking, so I kept making offers, trying to prove to him that yeah, I really meant it. I really did think he was smokin’ hot and I really did think he and I would set a berth on fire if we ever got in one together.”

“What happened next?”

“He kept giving me that same old dirty look and finally…” Rodimus splayed his hands. “I gave up. I mean, I know people say _never give up, never give in_ , but I don’t think they mean relationships, because nobody likes an exhaust-hole who can’t take a hint. Drift never said anything to me about not liking my flirting. This person…made his disapproval clear. I didn’t want to be obnoxious, so I figured he’d gotten the message that I was up for a good time and it was his move now.”

“And then?”

“And then _nothing_. I kept chasing Drift and getting flirting-but-only-so-far in return, kept fragging Blaster and Atomizer, took up with Sunstreaker, had him cut that off…then Overlord happened, and Luna One right behind it. That was kind of the catalyst.” Rodimus ran a hand over his crest. “I went to see him afterwards. We were both pretty shaken. Luna One was hard on him, too. I wanted…”

What had he wanted?

“Comfort, I guess. Reassurance that although we’d had our differences, we were still committed to this mission. To the way things had always been.”

“And how was he, after Luna One?”

Rodimus hung his head. “Pretty fragged up, actually.”

“I see. Are you afraid that you’re taking advantage of someone who’s emotionally vulnerable?”

“No!” Rodimus yelped, though inside his tanks twisted. He’d never considered that Magnus might not have really wanted to. Might have only agreed because he was messed up by Tyrest and his close call at Overlord’s hands. Almost dying in battle, being betrayed by his former idol, almost getting killed again by Tyrest, betray _ing_ the _Lost Light_ …. Had Magnus woke up the morning after, regretting everything that had led him to Rodimus’ berth? Was that why Magnus was pretending their tryst had never happened?

“We were both in a mess,” Rodimus pressed. He’d believed it a minute ago. It had to be true. “We helped each other. We _needed_ each other.”

“I see.” Rung didn’t challenge Rodimus’ assertion, even though Rodimus himself was beginning to wonder how well he understood Magnus’ choices. Magnus was so hard for Rodimus to read. 

“And he seemed really happy to see me. To spend time with me. It’s like we cleared the bad air between us and things are better now. So now…now I’m thinking maybe he kinda likes me after all. And I still think he’s smokin’ hot and…no. No, I _like_ him, Rung. I like him and I care about him. And now I don’t know what to do.” Rodimus wrung his hands. “I really want to be with him. But I’ve kind of got this feeling like being with him might be a mistake.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he’s really emotionally vulnerable. Like way more than I thought. More than anyone thinks, actually—I’d put money on that. And I don’t know if I can handle it. Like I told you earlier, my ideal relationship right now is someone fun, friendly, and easygoing about the monogamy thing. He…this guy’s very serious. It’s not like I don’t have fun in his company, but I don’t think I have a lot of margin for error here. If I mess up it’s going to have consequences. So before I decide whether or not I want to make the sacrifice that this is going to take, I thought I’d better ask you what you think.”

Rung thought for a moment. “You want me to tell you whether I think this potential new relationship of yours is worth pursuing.”

“I guess…I hoped you could give me some advice about what you think I should do. You’re the expert on feelings and behaviour and stuff.” Rodimus laughed without humour. “You probably know better than I do whether I can finally do like Magnus says and grow up and act like a commander.”

“I think the answer will be much clearer if we make some lists,” Rung said.

That sounded suspiciously like the kind of exercise Rung would ask of a _patient_. Rodimus’ optics narrowed. “What kind of lists?”

Frag, Ultra Magnus would love this. Magnus _lived_ for lists.

“Let’s begin with a list of reasons why a relationship between yourself and this…mechanism of interest would be a good idea.”

“Oh. That’s easy. One: because he’s smokin’ hot. Two: Because it’s going to look better on me as a commander if I have one regular partner instead of a whole bunch of berth-buddies. Three: Because he’s stable and organized and everything I’m not. Four: Because if I let him get away now, I’m never going to have this chance again. Five: have I mentioned he’s smokin’ hot? Six: Because I trust him. Implicitly. Seven: Because…

_Because I love him._

Rodimus choked and stammered out something about having a supportive partner.

_Smelt me down._

_Do I? Do I really?_

Rodimus had thought love was supposed to feel good. Like infatuation, but better. This didn’t feel good at all. This felt like the ground crumbling under his feet, with Ultra Magnus the only one to catch him if he fell.

“Because we’re better together than we are apart,” Rodimus finished weakly. He could only hope it was true. He was better with Magnus, yes, but was Magnus better off with him?

“Mmm. And how about some reasons why this relationship might be a bad idea?”

“Um… One: because I’m pretty sure he’s monogamous.”

“Have you asked?”

The idea that Magnus might _not_ be was absolutely alien. “Um, no, but I’m pretty sure.”

“I would strongly advise you to communicate with him and clarify, but let us go on your assumption for now.”

“Okay.” Rodimus drew a deep breath. “Two: we have really different interests. I’m not sure we’d have much to talk about outside the berth. Three: he’s completely obsessed with his work. Four: _I_ think our relationship would be good for _my_ reputation, but he might think being with me is bad for his.”

Rung did not mention Rodimus’ list of onboard conquests. He simply nodded.

“Five: he’s, um, how can I put this…he’s kind of strict, and…Well, if I screw up, I don’t know if I’m going to get another chance. Sometimes I feel like nothing I do is ever going to get him to forgive me.”

“I see.”

Rodimus glowered. He thought Rung was supposed to give him some answers. Instead, it seemed as though the psychologist just coaxed Rodimus to talk and talk until he answered his own damned questions and…

A metaphorical light went on in Rodimus’ head.

_That was it_. That was all Rung did all day. Sit here, play with his toys and let his patients yack until they talked their way into their own solutions. 

Must be a sweet deal for those who could get it, Rodimus thought. _He_ actually had to do hard stuff for his job.

“Keep going,” Rung encouraged.

“Um…” Rodimus liked the first list a lot better. “Six: he’s messed up. Really messed up, in a way most people wouldn’t believe. And if I do screw up this relationship, then I might really hurt him. Like, worse than just regular breakup stuff. I…I don’t know if I want people being so dependent on me. I mean, being captain is okay, leading this quest is okay, having adventures is awesome and stuff, but having someone depend on me for their, like, for their everyday life? That’s…”

_More responsibility than I want._

That was really what it came down to, wasn’t it? Courting Ultra Magnus would be a huge, massive, overwhelming responsibility. Rodimus had to either commit to being a stable, monogamous, long-term partner or he had to get out while the getting was good. There would be no _trying_. He had to _succeed_ , or else the best thing to do was not to make the attempt.

_I don’t trust myself to succeed._

_Nyon is what happens when people trust me._

“Rodimus?” Rung asked. “Is that your entire list?”

“I don’t trust myself to succeed,” Rodimus mumbled.

“I didn’t quite catch that?”

“This is too much.” Rodimus looked up. “Getting involved with this mech…it’s too much. Another big distraction on top of being captain. A high-pressure, high-stakes match with no room for failure. Consequences that would be horrible for both of us and maybe the entire crew if it didn’t work out. If I let my guard down, if I “be myself,” I’m going to hurt him, and I don’t know if either of us can deal with that.” Rodimus shook his head. “I don’t like this answer but…the smart thing is to know when the risk isn’t worth it.”

Rung beamed. “Then there you go, Rodimus.” He reached out and gently touched the captain’s arm. “I know it might not be the answer you wanted to hear,” Rung said kindly. “But it sounds to me that you’ve worked the problem out with both your heart and your head, and you’ve decided on the right thing to do.”

Rodimus looked down at his hands. “It’s going to be better for both of us if we keep things purely professional between us.”

“I hope this conversation has been of help to you,” Rung said, picking up one of his paintbrushes. Rodimus guessed the psychiatrist wanted to get back to working on his models. 

“Yeah.” Rodimus got to his feet, tucking the chair back against the wall. “I just have one more question before I go.”

“Certainly,” Rung replied. “What is it?”

“So, you know how we just figured out that it’s better if me and him don’t get intimately involved?”

“Yes?”

Rodimus swallowed. “What if we already are?”

#

Sometimes, Rung despaired of his captain.

Even though the psychiatrist really wanted some quiet alone time to work on his models, he knew that the wisest course of action would be to begin some pre-emptive damage control. Reluctantly, he put his paints away and left his office, heading around the corner to the other part of the medical wing.

Fortunately, Ratchet was the only mech there, hard at work entering data into the medbay’s computers.

“I was wondering if we might have a word in private?”

“This an appointment?” Ratchet grunted.

“Not exactly.”

“I’m on duty.”

“It won’t take long. I can let you go if someone comes in.”

“All right.”

Moments later, Ratchet took a seat on his berth, offering his desk chair to Rung. Ratchet’s personal quarters looked like an extension of the medbay: impersonal, cluttered with medical equipment, and devoid of any signs of extra-professional interests—save for a single crystal mounted in a base carved with ornate symbols.

“A present?” Rung inquired, gesturing towards it.

Ratchet scowled. “Drift said it’d improve the energy flow in here.”

_Drift._ Rung hesitated. 

“What’s this about?” Ratchet asked.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Rung said delicately.

Ratchet looked at him blankly.

“After Luna One.”

Ratchet snorted. “Not the first time I’ve lost a colleague. Not the first time I’ve had someone I used to admire let me down. Not the first time my former _conjunx endura_ has raked me over the coals.” Ratchet was silent for a moment. “Not the first time Rodimus has done something stupid.”

There was the opening Rung had been hoping for. “Can you tell me a bit about how you’re getting along with Rodimus these days?”

Ratchet looked confused for a moment. Then he pressed his lips into a hard line. “First Aid told you, didn’t he.”

Rung blinked, at a loss. “Told me what?”

“Told you I’m thinking about telling Rodimus I’m borrowing a shuttle.”

“I’m sorry?” Rung had no idea what Ratchet was talking about.

“He needs to get himself straightened out. First Aid. You’ll help him with that, right? I can’t go until First Aid’s ready to take over as CMO, but…the longer I wait, the worse it’s going to get. You understand, right?”

Rung shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ratchet, I don’t. Where are you planning to go?”

Ratchet’s gaze fell on the crystal. “After Drift.”

“Drift.” Rung felt confused. “What about Rodimus?”

“Look.” Ratchet’s left hand dug into his right forearm. “I don’t know what went down between Drift and Rodimus. I don’t know if Rodimus talked Drift into taking the fall for Overlord or if Drift volunteered or what. What I do know is Drift paid a terrible price to shield Rodimus and Rodimus let him, and I can’t let that be the end of it.” Ratchet’s fingers dug into the diagnostic hatch on his forearm and popped the catch. “It’s wrong and I can’t leave it at that.”

There was something engraved on the inside of Ratchet’s diagnostic hatch cover. Strange symbols, reminiscent of the graffiti Rung had seen around Rodion long ago. Gang symbols. Turf markings. Rung had learned a few of the pictographs from his clients at the time. 

_Doctor. Under my protection._

Rung’s gaze fell on the crystal and he realized that he had misunderstood Rodimus’ meaning completely.

“You’re involved with Drift.”

Ratchet slammed his diagnostic hatch shut. “What’s that got to do with you?”

“I had thought it was Rodimus.”

Ratchet looked at Rung as though the psychologist were the mentally unbalanced one. He wrinkled his nose. “What would ever make you think that Rodimus and I were…”

“Something Rodimus said. He was being very vague who he was referring to, but I thought…I thought it might be you.”

Ratchet snorted. “No. And Drift had…Drift had just _better_ be all right when I find him.”

“Drift is a survivor,” Rung said. Ratchet appeared reassured.

In a way, Rung felt relieved. He’d been worried about Ratchet post-Luna One, but it seemed that the Chief Medical Officer had come through his horrific experience at Pharma’s hands more or less unfazed. First Aid might be overwhelmed by trauma, but Ratchet was still on his feet and kicking, and with a mission to focus his thoughts.

_Drift._

_And Ratchet._

Well, Rung’s experience had seen stranger pairs than that.

Now, though, Rung was left wondering…if Rodimus hadn’t taken up with the Chief Medical Officer…then who _had_ Rodimus been referring to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###
> 
> So, next up, "Defaulters," which I hope to start posting sometime in August. Rodimus wings it, Magnus doesn't have a manual outlining acceptable conduct, and things go about as well as you'd expect.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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